


Into Darkness, Bearing Light

by estelraca



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Multi, Romantic antics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-28 05:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11411085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelraca/pseuds/estelraca
Summary: When a fellow would-be Romantic invites Jehan on a trip into the catacombs and ossuaries beneath Paris, Jehan immediately accepts.  What he hadn't expected was to find something astonishing and unbelievable, and he returns later with some of his friends from the Amis, eager to explore his strange new findings.  Besides, what better place is there for a seance then in a mass grave?





	Into Darkness, Bearing Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crimsondust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsondust/gifts).



> I really hope that you enjoy this little trip into a world of Romantics and fantasy! I absolutely love all your prompts, but Bahorel and Jehan are pretty great. Thanks for letting me play around with them some more!

_Into Darkness, Bearing Light_

"Jehan, really, we're getting a bit far from where we had talked about going." Lucas' voice rings with nervous tension, bouncing off the cool walls of the catacombs.

Jehan turns to his friend, smiling as comfortingly as he can, hoping the flickering lantern light doesn't turn the expression into something more sinister. "You still know where we are, yes?"

After a brief hesitation Lucas nods. "We haven't become lost yet, but it's still... I don't _want_ to be lost down here."

Reaching out to place a comforting hand on his fellow poet's shoulder, Jehan nods gravely. "I understand. It can get a bit overwhelming, between the darkness and the close quarters and the bodies and the smells and the rodents."

The lighting makes it hard to tell, but Jehan fears his companion has gone even paler.

"But I assure you, so long as you remember where we've come from, we'll be quite all right." Jehan considers offering his companion a drink, to see if it stiffens Lucas' resolve, but he, too, has no desire to wander lost in the labyrinth of tunnels that is Paris' underground. "Let's just explore this last tunnel, and then we can start the return journey."

Lucas considers the suggestion for a few seconds, whole body rocking subtly back and forth with nervous energy, and then sighs and nods. "As you wish. Though I'm surprised you find these old tunnels interesting. I would have thought we'd spend the entire time at the ossuaries."

"The ossuaries are beautiful, in their unique macabre way." Jehan smiles in fond reminiscence as he turns to continue down their tunnel. "And I do apologize if I pulled you away from them before you were ready to leave."

"No, I was quite all right with our timing there." Lucas doesn't quite suppress a shudder.

Jehan sighs, though he tries to keep his friend from hearing. As much as the poet might _claim_ to be amenable to and interested in Romanticism, he seems to get rather squeamish every time Jehan tries to actually _do_ something Romantic with him. He dropped Bahorel's skull mug; he groans about intoxication after just a small amount of alcohol and hems and haws at the offer of everything more exotic; he seemed to nearly have an apoplectic fit and escaped into the streets after being offered a night of passion by some of their fellow revelers; when offered a coffin to sleep in, he turned green. He has written some very pretty turns of phrase about some of the old cathedrals that have survived Paris' upgrades, but when Jehan goes out with him looking for inspiration Lucas seems to have little patience for Jehan's dawdling and doodling.

So long as Lucas seems honestly interested in trying, though, Jehan is loathe to give up on a potential compatriot. And when Lucas had proclaimed, somehow both proud and shy at the same time, that he had acquired an entryway into the forbidden catacombs and would be very happy to bring Jehan with him to explore... well, Jehan has always loved the catacombs, and finds it quite irritating that the government feels they have the right to control access.

The tunnel that they're in doesn't have any bones in it. Though it's connected to the ossuary rooms, it's clearly one of the old mining tunnels, and appears to have been left alone for quite some time—though Jehan knows looks can be deceiving in cases such as this. How long does it take for dust and grime to build up in the underground? Perhaps Combeferre has some knowledge of the timescales involved, but Jehan only knows that there's a delightful prickling sensation on the back of his neck as he shines his light into darkened crevasses that makes it _feel_ as though no one has been here for decades.

A sharp curve turns the tunnel approximately sixty degrees to the right, and Jehan edges his way around it. Does he feel somewhat like Theseus must have felt in the labyrinth? Not that he's lost, but being surrounded by stone, the city pressing down above them, darkness waiting to claim them should their little sources of light fail—it's a wonderful, shivery feeling, and Jehan revels in it.

They almost miss the side tunnel. It's a slim little affair, mostly blocked off. If there hadn't been a glint of red from one of the paintings, Jehan would have continued right on past it, none the wiser. There _are_ paintings on the wall, though, and the lantern-light catches one baleful red eye and throws unexpected color back to Jehan. Immediately Jehan freezes, turning to find the source of unexpected flicker, and feels his jaw drop as a smile spreads across his face. "Well now, what treasure have we found here?"

The side tunnel—if it's a proper tunnel—was bricked across at some point in time. The bricks have started crumbling, falling back into the area that they're protecting. Jehan bends down to run his fingers over one of the blocks, the surface feeling rough and cool beneath his question fingertips. Tilting the lantern, he tries to peer through the holes and spies... something. Tables? Bones? It's hard to make out, but he knows even from a cursory glance that he wants to see more.

Standing, Jehan holds the lantern to study the images that had first caught his eye. The linework has been etched into the stone of the tunnel wall. On either side of the sealed entrance is a cynocephalid, a dog-headed bipedal creature. The two monsters look out at the traveler, claw-tipped hands held at the ready, red eyes still gleaming, prepared to defend their charge. Between the dog-men, at the apex of the archway, stands a man with a flowering rod. A young child rides on his shoulder. Bits of color are still evident—blue beneath the man's feet, green on the leaves of the staff, a halo about the child's head, the vibrant eyes of the guardians. In other places the paint has been completely smoothed away, leaving only the etched lines.

"What is this?" Lucas frowns at the archway, hovering nervously behind Jehan. "I don't remember hearing any mention of something like this."

"Perhaps it's not on the official registry." Jehan pushes at some of the bricks, and they fall inward, casting up a pall of dust. "Or perhaps they are and just don't have the infamy of some of their brethren."

"Should you be doing that?" There's an almost squeaky note of panic to Lucas' voice as he watches Jehan collapse another little section of barrier. "Couldn't those be important? I mean, there _have_ been cave-ins—"

"Not in quite some time, and _this_ is most definitely not a load-bearing collection of bricks. If it were, it wouldn't fall away so readily." Jehan resists the urge to sigh. It shouldn't need someone with Combeferre's level of interest in physics to understand something so simple. "This was just designed to keep people out."

"Which, of course, means that we're going in." The resignation in Lucas' voice isn't what Jehan had expected.

"You don't have to." Turning a quizzical eye on his companion, Jehan continues his careful work on widening the hole. "But I certainly intend to."

"So long as you go first." Now Lucas sounds more petulant than angry or frightened.

Since Jehan had no intention of ceding the first position—though he _might_ have been talked into it by the right person—this suits him just fine. The hole seems to be big enough to admit a man now, provided he doesn't mind doing a bit of contortion. Jehan starts by shoving his lantern through, carefully setting it off to the side where he's unlikely to hit it if he ends up flailing about for purchase. Then he begins the more arduous process of pulling his body through, letting out a few undignified grunts as he does.

As soon as he's through Jehan grabs his lantern, holding it up and studying the room. "Oh. Oh my goodness."

"What is it?" Lucas' voice comes from the other side of the divider, and his pale face hovers nervously on the far side of the hole.

"I'm not sure I can properly explain it." Keeping his voice low, Jehan studies the scene before him with awe. "Would you like to come see?"

It doesn't take long to pull Lucas through, and they spend a few minutes just standing side by side, studying the tomb before them.

It can't possibly be anything else. But who— _what—_ it's a tomb for... well, that's a matter that Jehan is going to have to contemplate for some time.

"The iconography." Lucas swallows, his voice also hushed. "That was Saint Christopher, wasn't it?"

"Indeed. The dog-headed man who wished to serve only the most powerful king in existence." Jehan runs his eyes over the images covering the walls of the crypt. They are better-preserved than the ones outside, their colors still visible in most places. They aren't nearly as easy to place, though, looking far more pagan—four-legged beasts chasing down prey, bipedal forms with wolf heads involved in a variety of activities. Jehan could spend hours in this room just attempting to sketch out the images.

And that's before taking into account the bodies. Well, skeletons now, really. To Jehan's left and right, in position as guardians, lie the desiccated remains of enormous canines. It's impossible to tell what color their fur might once have been, their bodies having been reduced to yellow-white bones held together by weathered sinews that would probably not survive much handling.

Behind the dogs are two stone altars, and resting atop the altars are skeletons unlike anything Jehan has seen before in his life. Their shape is human, mostly, except not _quite_. The knee and ankle joints are wrong—these people would walk on their toes. And their arms, where they're crossed over their bare chests—those hands have opposable thumbs, but the claws are far too long and sharp. And the _skulls—_ oh, the skulls are a thing of beauty, half-human, half-beast.

Jehan takes a step towards one of the altars only to find himself pulled up short by Lucas' hand on his arm.

Lucas' voice trembles as he hisses out his question. "What are you _doing_?"

"Examining the bodies, of course." Jehan gestures with his lantern.

"What _are_ they?" Lucas allows himself to be pulled gently towards the nearest creature. "Is this... is this some kind of trick?"

"If it is, it seems like a very strange way to go about it." Jehan has heard Combeferre complaining about those who falsify animal specimens, but this situation doesn't seem to fit in with most of those cases. "If someone were trying to create an income or a scandal, they wouldn't hide it away behind a wall in catacombs that are now forbidden to the public."

"Unless it was created _before_ the edict was put in place?" Lucas nibbles at his bottom lip, keeping Jehan between himself and the skeleton on the table. "I mean... look at this thing. It _has_ to be several skeletons jumbled together, right?"

Studying the corpse before him, Jehan shakes his head. "There might be a way, but look at how everything's still connected... I have a friend I can bring to study the bones, though. He'll be able to give us a better idea of if this might be a trick. But where's the _money_ in it? Why go to all this trouble and get neither acclaim nor financial benefit?"

"And where did they get all the bodies and coffins..." Lucas' eyes move behind the two stone tablets. The back of the crypt is filled with stacks of coffins. Most are simple wooden affairs, though a few are more elaborate. All of them look old.

"There _is_ the ossuary..." Jehan takes a step towards the stacked coffins. Some have collapsed, crushed by their brethren above them and the weight of age; the bones inside make it clear that the stacked boxes aren't just an empty show.

As Jehan's feet cross the boundary line between the raised stone tables and the stacked coffins, a low, threatening growl rises to fill the chamber. It seems to echo in Jehan's bones, to rattle through his stomach and liver, to fill every inch of him until drawing a breath is difficult. The sound is almost more _felt_ than heard, trying to insinuate itself into every nook and cranny of Jehan's body.

Lucas gives a little yelp of terror and begins dragging Jehan back towards the hole they crawled through. Jehan allows himself to be pulled, his survival instincts temporarily superseding his curiosity.

Especially since he thinks that curiosity will be better sated by returning later with additional companions.

As he clambers back through the hole, Jehan thinks he catches a glimpse of reflected light in the empty eye sockets of the closest canine.

Whether he did or not, he knows that he's going to return and see the creature again.

XXX

Jehan knocks impatiently at Bahorel's door. The hour is late, true, but Jehan knows Bahorel, and it's really not _that_ late. And even if it _is_ , even if his rowdy friend has already turned in for the evening, Jehan knows that this is something he would want to be woken for.

Clutched in Jehan's hand is a diagram of how to reach the burial chamber again—Lucas, having vowed never to return to the chamber under his own volition, had helped Jehan to sketch the map and to leave small ink marks at the turns that he will have to take to find the proper tunnel again. Jehan isn't entirely certain what it is that he wants to do other than go back and _explore_ , and he knows just the person to go with him.

Assuming said person is in residence and willing to answer his door, at least.

Finally the door opens and Bahorel appears. The man is wearing only trousers, showing off his fighter's physique. Jehan takes a moment to appreciate the view, during which time a young woman appears behind, apparently wearing only a shawl.

Dipping into a bow, Jehan greets the woman. "Pardon my intrusion, Eva. I didn't mean to interrupt if I have, I just—"

"Have something exciting for us." Bahorel removes himself from the doorframe, gesturing with his head for Jehan to follow him inside. "Come in, and let me know if it's revolutionary, artistic, both, or neither that's brought you here."

"I supposed one could say that it falls under the artistic heading." Jehan follows Bahorel and his mistress into their room, the confines almost as familiar to him as his own. "I was in the catacombs with Lucas, and we found something... unexpected."

Bahorel pulls a bottle and three glasses off a shelf. "Oh?"

"I almost don't have words to describe it." Jehan's hands and voice both tremble as he thinks back on the fascinating room. "The outside is easy to miss, and decorated with cynocephalids and what must be an image of Saint Christopher. The inside... there are bodies that could change how the world is viewed by many, laid out with what is clearly ceremony and respect."

Both Bahorel and Eva have frozen in place. They share a look, and then Bahorel settles into a chair across from Jehan, drink dangling forgotten from his left hand. "Bodies that could change the world?"

"Bodies that look half-man, half-wolf." Jehan takes a steadying drink. "And the iconography inside the tomb—it's beautiful, but like nothing else I've ever seen. I want to take you there and show it to you."

"I think it's definitely something I should see." Bahorel settles a little deeper into his chair, expression more pensive than Jehan had expected.

"What are you planning on doing when you return, my poet?" Eva settles herself on the edge of Jehan's chair, running her fingers through his hair.

"Well, as I said, demonstrating the find to those I trust—to you, to Combeferre, to any of the other Amis who might be interested." Jehan leans into Eva's touch, wondering if tonight will be one of the nights he's invited to stay with her and Bahorel, and if he wants to co-mingle passions of the flesh with the intellectual and spiritual passions that have come earlier. (The answer is almost certainly yes, but it's still worthwhile to consider.)

"That sounds decidedly scientific of you." Bahorel examines Jehan through narrowed eyes, a smile curling languidly across his mouth as he does.

"And, perhaps... I was thinking of holding a séance there." Jehan grins. "Especially since... it was the most amazing thing. When I went to examine some of the bodies, it was almost as though the guardians _growled_ at me. If that's true, if they're still attempting to guard their fallen compatriots—"

"A séance in the catacombs in the midst of _loup garou_ bodies." Bahorel seems quite taken with the notion.

Jehan notes the way that he uses the colonials' word for werewolves rather than the _le lycanthrope_ epithet that he's heard his friend toss around before, but he's not sure what the reason for that might be. "Sound like something you'd be interested in?"

"Sounds like something even wolfsbane couldn't keep me away from." Bahorel grins, a show of fangs. "Though if we're going to invite some of the others, we should probably wait until tomorrow to do so. It will give us time to gather what we need for the ceremony, as well."

"I suppose that's wise." Jehan sighs, taking a draught from his drink and leaning his head against Eva.

"Sometimes I listen to wisdom, when dreams aren't quite accomplishing what I wish." Bahorel holds up the bottle. "Have anything you were planning for the rest of the night, or want to stay here?"

"If I'm welcome, then most assuredly here." Jehan smiles between his two friends, knowing that between the three of them they'll find entertainment enough to fill the night before it's time to start working on the séance in earnest.

XXX

"And this is down in the catacombs, you say?" Combeferre seems dubious about the entire endeavor.

"I assure you, I saw it with my own eyes, as did my companion. And neither Lucas nor I had imbibed much prior to that—I wished to visit the catacombs, not become a denizen." Jehan is determined but not harsh in his responses. He knows that Combeferre asks only because he wants to know all the details for something so fantastical, not because he doesn't trust Jehan's word.

"If what you're describing is anywhere near accurate... I will certainly accompany you to examine the situation again." Combeferre nods as he makes his proclamation.

Jehan looks hopefully around at the rest of those gathered.

Feuilly shakes his head, giving a rueful smile. "I appreciate the offer, but if I'm going to be risking fines or imprisonment, I'd prefer it be for the cause rather than my own entertainment. I look forward to seeing what sketches you come up with, though."

Enjolras gives a slight shrug. "I, too, appreciate the invitation, but I'm otherwise occupied basically every evening this week, and I would hate for you to postpone your adventure for me when I doubt I would understand the import."

Giving a nod of understanding in return, Jehan waves away his friends' apologies. He had mostly expected that reaction from those two—sometimes he wonders if the cause has replaced blood in their veins, though it makes them no less wonderful as friends and associates.

Bossuet elbows Joly. "What about us? We could bring Musichetta. Seances are all the rage again, right?"

A worried frown crosses Joly's face. "I don't know about going down near the ossuaries, disturbing old graves... whether miasma or hygiene theory ends up winning out, it seems an ideal breeding ground for illness."

Combeferre reaches out to touch Joly's shoulder. "And yet people have been traipsing through the catacombs almost since their creation, and few if any contract illness. I think the risk is small."

"And the bodies are probably in better shape than some of those they used for your classes." Bossuet makes a face.

"Well... it could be exciting." A tentative smile crosses Joly's face. "We'll talk to Musichetta about it, see if she's interested."

"Excellent!" Jehan turns to the remaining two members of their friends' circle.

Courfeyrac gives an apologetic little grimace. "I'm afraid I'll be rather tied up the next few evenings as well. I'm trying to introduce Marius to a few people who may be able to help better his situation, but Marius being, well, Marius, I'd prefer to accompany him."

Grantaire takes a drink and considers. "It sounds like an absolutely fascinating endeavor, in all honesty. But it also sounds like a great deal of work. Traipsing about avoiding guards, ducking into dark and stygean passageways, breaking into the eternal slumber of these unfortunates who don't even look like men after who knows how many years of being interred—why, it seems—"

"I'll take that as a you'll consider it depending on how drunk you are." Jehan nods amiably at Grantaire as Grantaire continues to mutter about death and sepulchers and the fragility of mankind. "Everyone who wishes to accompany us... shall we meet up here tomorrow at seven, then? Bring lanterns or some other form of light. Bahorel and I will provide everything we need for the séance."

Another half hour or so passes as they plan, before Enjolras brings the meeting back around to the politics that they are supposed to be discussing. Jehan throws himself into both topics with equal abandon, once more very glad of the fate or luck that has brought him into contact with these wonderful people.

XXX

Jehan is careful as he leads the way through the catacombs, his friends following close behind. Some have clearly never been down here before—Joly, in particular, seems caught between awe and horror at the entire endeavor. Bahorel has been several times, of course, and it probably shouldn't surprise Jehan as much as it does that Combeferre has, as well. The man's hunger for knowledge is almost as overwhelming as Jehan's need for experience.

Nothing eventful happens before they reach the crypt, and to Jehan's relief the etchings on the wall and the partially bricked-up entrance are still right where he left them. There was no _reason_ to believe they'd disappear, of course, but there was also no reason to believe they _wouldn't_. If there can be wolf-men, then why shouldn't their final resting place be one of magic, that can come and go at will?

Combeferre immediately begins studying the pictures above the door. He brought a thick leather-bound journal and several different writing utensils, and he begins sketching out the lay-out of the door and the pictures. When Jehan looks over his friend's shoulder, he's pleasantly surprised by how good Combeferre is at the job. If Jehan ever needs references, for poems or the like, he'll know where to go to find them.

Musichetta seems more interested in the masonry work that had gone into sealing off the tunnel. She picks at some of the old, dried mortar, allowing the crumbling powder to sift between her fingers as she peers into the darkness beyond. "Someone was thorough but not very good at their job when they made this."

"Oh?" Bahorel pokes at some of the remaining bricks, causing them to tumble forward into the darkness. "What makes you say that?"

"The fact that it's falling apart after maybe... seventy, eighty years?" Musichetta brushes her hands off.

Jehan eyes the doorway. "You're certain it's been that long?"

"Not certain, but I'd be willing to put a wager on it." Turning to face Jehan, Musichetta gives him a quizzical expression. "Why?"

Not quite able to suppress an eager smile, Jehan kneels down at the entrance to the crypt and shoves the lantern through again. "Because that would place this hear _before_ any of the other bones—before the decision to make part of the tunnels into an ossuary was made."

Pulling himself into the crypt, Jehan picks up the lantern and holds it a few feet away, casting light for his companions to guide themselves by as they also enter.

It doesn't take long for everyone to come through. Bahorel is last, bearing the small accouterments that they've collected for the seance—a stool, since it seemed that trying to get a table down here would be more trouble than it's worth; a black cloth with stars picked out in shimmering silver threads; and a tiny gong that Jehan believes was manipulated by a ghost at the last séance he and Bahorel held.

Combeferre and Eva have already moved forward. Combeferre has his own small pouch of tricks, and as he peers down at the muzzle of one of the skeletons on the stone tablet, he begins pulling them out. Measuring tools, Jehan believes, including calipers and marked string.

"This..." Combeferre's voice is a soft, awed whisper as he begins taking and writing down measurements. "If this is a hoax, it's a very elaborate and impressive one. To form a skull such as this... to create the illusion of atrophied tendons..."

Joly had been hovering near the entrance, eyes scanning over the coffins and the murals on the wall with evident unease. Musichetta and Bossuet stand near him, each touching him in some small way, offering comfort. Pulling a scented handkerchief away from his nose, Joly takes a hesitant step towards Combeferre. "You think it might be real?"

"I think it's incredible. Come see for yourself. You've studied physiology as well as I have—do you remember anything remotely like this?" Combeferre doesn't quite seem to have enough hands to keep up with everything he wants to do, and when Joly comes close enough he shoves his book into Joly's hands. "Take notes while I make measurements? And tell me what you think, of course."

Jehan allows the scientists to immerse themselves in their work, turning his attention to Eva. She has worked her way to the head of the other plinth, her fingers trailing along the stone but carefully avoiding the body laid out in state. She's muttering something quietly to herself, an almost rhythmic chant, but Jehan can't pick out the words.

Can't pick out the _language_ , he realizes, which gives him a bit of a start. He didn't know she knew any languages that he didn't.

Moving to the woman's side, Jehan follows her gaze to the empty eye-sockets of the deceased individual. "Who do you think they were?"

Eva glances up at him, her expression closed, hard to read. "Someone with a community that felt the need to give them honor in the afterlife."

Inclining his head, Jehan also runs his fingers over the cool stone. "Very true. And perhaps that's the most important thing to know."

"These pictures..." Bahorel's voice comes from closer to the coffins than Jehan had expected, and he turns to see his friend at the head of the table where Combeferre is working.

When had he crossed the boundary line that triggered the terrible sound yesterday, and why didn't it happen today?

Jehan moves to his friend's side, watching the images on the wall seem to leap and twist in the light that they brought. "They're gorgeous. Also unlike anything I've seen. Bits seem almost Egyptian, but then other parts..."

"I've seen something like that." Musichetta comes up beside them, hugging her shawl around her shoulders and pointing towards an image of a canine-like creature in one corner of the room. "In caves, when I was younger."

"We'll have to draw them as best we can." Combeferre doesn't look up from his work as he joins their conversation.

Bossuet comes to lean against Jehan's side, sighing and smiling indulgently at the scientists. "I hope you're ready for a long evening, because it's going to be a while before we can pull them away from their work."

Given the scope of the exploration to be done and the fact that Joly finally seems to be relaxing, Jehan has no problem with this. "Everyone can take as much time as they need. And once the evening's work is completed to everyone's satisfaction, we'll see about other ways of getting answers."

XXX

It is well past nightfall by the time Combeferre closes his book. Not that they can tell, down here, but Jehan likes to keep track of the sky, and he knows in the city proper a nearly-full moon will currently be hanging low on the horizon.

"Well then." Jehan drapes the cloth over the stool, giving an elevated surface for them to surround, and places the gong in the center of the cloth. "If everyone who wants to participate will come here and join hands? And we should lower the lighting a bit, I feel. Give this the proper atmosphere."

Bossuet begins fiddling with the lanterns, turning down wicks and applying shutters to lower the light. "I'm not sure how much more appropriate we could get than sitting in the center of a mass grave, but if it's required..."

Bahorel is the first to settle on the ground, placing himself at a point equidistant between the two stone tables and closest to the stacked coffins. Jehan sits next to him, taking Bahorel's hand in a firm grip.

To Jehan's surprise Eva doesn't take the space on Bahorel's other side. Instead Musichetta settles there, helping Joly to arrange his bad leg and cane and ease himself to the floor on her other side. Bossuet claims the area next to Joly, then Combeffere, then Eva, and once more back to Jehan, completing the circle.

"Now then." Jehan feels a thrill of excitement dance up and down his spine, raising the tiny hairs on his back. He always loves this part—the thrill of the unknown, the possibility of connecting to something greater, wider, _wiser_. "Let us all join hands together and focus on what it is that we wish to connect with. O spirits and powers, allow us to part the veils that separate the living and the dead, our physical world and the world of the untouchable. Lords and ladies of the dead—Hades, Persephone, Anubis, Donn, Mictecacihuatl, Ereshkigal, all you others—let us hear from the ones who lie here in repose. Let us understand who they were, where they came from, and why they are here today."

Silence, broken by the sounds of his friends' breathing, and Jehan waits patiently. Sometimes it can take a little bit for the spirits to find strength to manifest, assuming they ever do.

When two or three minutes have passed in silence, Jehan can hear his friends beginning to move restlessly. Drawing a breath, he squeezes Bahorel's hand and begins to speak again. "Spirits of those who lie here, would—"

A low growl rolls through the chamber. It's a different sound than the one that Jehan heard before, though no less impressive—a little higher-pitched, and not quite so much rumbling in the bones, but still it instantly arrests the attention of all there.

Bahorel suddenly stiffens, his whole body seeming to tense into a tight bow before he nearly collapses forward onto their little altar. His breath comes as a rasping pant, overlaying the continued growl.

Combeferre begins to stand, his face tense. "Bahorel, are you—"

"Who would speak with us?" The words are rough, almost a full octave lower than Bahorel's normal speaking voice. The growl continues to roll through the chamber.

Jehan gestures as well as he can for Combeferre to sit while not breaking the circle. Bossuet and Eva manage to tug Combeferre back into a proper sitting position, and Jehan turns eagerly to his friend.

Bahorel's eyes are _glowing_. Or... no, that's not quite right. But they catch the low light and fling it back magnified, like a cat caught out at night. Those bright fierce eyes fix on Jehan, and the low, rumbling voice issues forth again. "Who wishes to speak with us?"

"My name is Jean Prouvaire." Jehan forces his voice to be calm and steady, each word perfectly enunciated. Not that language seems to be a problem for most spirits—this one, at least, is speaking perfect Parisian French. "My friends and I have found your resting place, and wish to know of you."

For several seconds there is silence, and then once more that deep, booming voice. "My name is—" The name that follows is something Jehan's not sure he could pronounce if he tried, a combination of canine sounds and French vowels that seems impossible for a human throat to make. "Why do you disturb us?"

"We wish to learn from you." Jehan glances at Combeferre, flashing a smile. He suspects Combeferre will approve of such an undertaking. "We wish you to explain—"

"You wish to take, as others have taken." There is bitter accusation in the spirit's voice. "Even here, even in death, we can have no peace."

Combeferre speaks up from the other end of their circle, voice sharp and clear. "What others? And what are you claiming was taken from you?"

Bright yellow eyes peer at Combeferre, and Bahorel's lips pull back from his teeth. "Again and again we were driven from our homes by mankind. Again and again we retreated, leaving our dead behind. And now even those are not safe from your hands."

"You're claiming not to be human?" Joly's excitement shows in his voice, though it also trembles a bit with nerves. "What are you, then?"

A terrible, beautiful smile spreads slowly across Bahorel's face. "Would you like to see?"

The growling had continued, low and impossible, a pulse underlying their conversation. Now Bahorel's head is thrown back and a howl twines through the growling, the sound near-deafening in the close confines of the crypt. "See, then. See what we are, and then leave us in peace. Leave those few who survived in peace. Or would you be responsible for genocide?"

The spirit doesn't give them time to answer. Bahorel's hand rips itself away from Jehan's, Bahorel's spine seeming to bend back at an impossible angle.

Whipping forward again, that bright yellow gaze flits around the table. Even as Jehan watches Bahorel's face seems to _ripple_ , bone bulging out beneath skin that is growing hairier by the minute. The voice that issues forth from that terrible skull is barely comprehensible... and also immeasurably sad. "Go, please. Go and leave us to our rest."

Another howl echoes through the crypt, and Eva screams. The growling breaks off as she tears herself away from her spot in the circle, diving towards the exit to the crypt. The others at the table share a brief look, and then the circle dissolves. Musichetta and Bossuet help Joly to his feet and towards the exit, waiting until he's followed Eva into the hallway to leave themselves.

Combeferre stands frozen, watching the spirit with wide eyes. "Our friend—"

"I've no... desire for... him." The words are panted between breaths, formed by lips that are barely human. "Leave, and he'll... follow."

Combeferre hesitates a moment before nodding and doing as requested.

Leaving Jehan the last to retreat to the exit. The wolf-man follows him, moving on legs that have a distinctly inhuman shape beneath trousers that no longer fit right. The arms, too, have shifted, and the hands are fur-covered, claw-tipped.

Jehan hesitates at the exit of the room, looking into the eyes of the beast. Then he steps forward, reaching out to run a hand through the bristly fur that covers the muzzle and up into the soft fur between the eyes.

He could swear the beast winks at him, and there is the feel of a tongue against his wrist. Then a hand in the center of his chest sends him sprawling backward, and Jehan follows his friends out into the hall.

Eva is in the midst of hysterics, with Joly and his loves working hard to comfort her. Combeferre is writing frantically in his book, though he pauses when Jehan emerges, a clear question in his eyes.

Before Jehan can decide what he wants to say, there's the sound of someone else exiting, and Bahorel emerges from the crypt. Other than his clothes being a bit mussed, he seems unharmed, and he's dragging the small bundle of items they had brought for the séance behind him. "Well. _That_ was a most unexpected turn of events."

Tearing herself away from the attempts at comfort, Eva runs to Bahorel and buries her head against his shoulder. (And if it seems to Jehan that her sobs sound almost like her usual laughter... the two sounds can be, on average, remarkably similar.)

"Bahorel..." Combeferre approaches their friend, reaching out to turn one of Bahorel's hands over, studying his face intently. "Are you... quite unharmed?"

Bahorel nods, stroking Eva's hair. "Quite unharmed."

"And..." Combeferre looks hesitantly between Jehan and Bahorel. "This wasn't any kind of trick, right? On our friendship..."

"No tricks on my part." Jehan shakes his head vehemently.

"You know I wouldn't do something like that to you, Combeferre. What you heard was the true wishes of those interred here." Bahorel gestures back towards the crypt. "Which begs the question where do we go from here."

"The sheer scientific import of what we've found and what we've seen—" Combeferre's face is anguished as he takes a step towards the entrance again.

"But if that scientific advance comes at the cost of others' safety..." Joly places a hand on Combeferre's shoulder.

After a few seconds Combeferre's shoulders slump. "The physician must strive to do good and to do no harm... if it truly would be dangerous to pursue this..."

"Let us take some time to consider what we've seen and heard. In a few days we can vote on what we wish to do." Musichetta places a comforting hand on both Combeferre and Joly's shoulders.

"In the meantime..." Bahorel grins. "I believe an evening like this calls for a solid round of drinks."

Jehan doesn't protest as Bahorel leads the way towards the exit, though he does move forward to take point when the boisterous man would have led them down the wrong path.

He sees no problem with either time for contemplation or a good dose of alcohol—perhaps more—to aid with contemplation going forward, especially given the suspicions he is starting to harbor.

XXX

Two evenings later, on the night of the proper full moon, Jehan knocks on Bahorel's door at dusk.

His friend answers, grinning broadly and urging him inside. Jehan enters, not surprised to find Eva curled in one of the chairs, smiling at him over a cup of tea.

"Good evening, my friends." Jehan gives a courtly bow to the two of them, settling himself in the open chair. "I hope I'm not intruding on anything."

Bahorel and Eva share a look, and then Bahorel comes to lean on the back of Jehan's chair. "Whatever would you be intruding on?"

"Well, it _is_ the night of the full moon." Jehan looks up into his friend's eyes, trying and failing to find any hint of reflected light there. "And the longer I've pondered what happened in the catacombs, the more I've come to feel that perhaps it... wasn't unexpected to some of us."

Bahorel's smile fades, though he doesn't say anything.

Reaching into one of his pockets, Jehan pulls out the carefully-drawn map. "I've destroyed the markers I used to find the crypt, and this is the only copy of the map in existence, so far as I'm aware. I... suspect it belongs more with you than with me."

Reaching out slowly, Bahorel takes the carefully folded piece of paper, rubbing it between his hands. "Whatever would lead you to believe we knew anything about what happened down there?"

"Several things." Jehan shrugs. "The timing of everything, for one. Eva is usually a very vocal participant in seances, but she said nothing—at least, nothing the entire time the growling occurred. And when I had a... moment with the spirit that had supposedly possessed you, it acted in a very, shall we say, _Bahorel_ fashion with me." Jehan's fingers trace over the spot on his wrist where he still sometimes feels a ghost-tongue pressing. "And I also found it very odd that our Eva would give over so strongly to hysterics when she is usually calm... or that her hysterics would sound so much like laughter."

Bahorel smiles over Jehan's head at Eva. "And here you said that _I_ was a bad actor."

Eva rolls her eyes, though there is an uneasy edge to her frown. "Careful what you say, Bahorel."

"Why?" Jehan reaches up to touch Bahorel's face, tracing his fingers over the same places that he touched on the beast-man. "Why must you watch what you say?"

"Because some secrets aren't one persons alone, and moves that are made with those secrets can have far-reaching impacts." Bahorel leans into the touch, and there is something both deeply sad and terribly frustrated lurking in his eyes. "Because I take oaths that are sworn seriously."

"And I would never ask you to do less." Jehan sighs, closing his eyes and remembering the sincerity in Bahorel's voice as he swore that there would be genocide if further investigations were carried out. "I won't press you for more, then. But I do think that I've done the right thing, handing over that map to you."

Folding the map into even smaller sections, Bahorel shoves it in his waistcoat. "Thank you, Jehan. For being yourself."

"I could hardly be anything else." Jehan smiles as he stands, already missing the feel of Bahorel's head against his hand. "I hope that the night is pleasant for you both."

Jehan is halfway to the door when Eva heaves a noisy sigh.

"I do believe I have both opium and hashish stashed about here somewhere, as well as a few more exotic options." Bahorel makes the suggestion in a tone that Jehan knows goes with a grin even before he turns around. "Sometimes when one's been exploring the boundaries of the universe that way, it can become difficult to tell what _actually_ happened and what was just a, say... spiritual experience."

Eva laughs, the sound bubbling out to fill the room. "Have you ever met a rule you didn't want to break, my love?"

"If people would stop making ridiculous rules, I'd stop wanting to break them." Bahorel shrugs, coming over to wrap his arms around Jehan's chest. "I don't suppose you'd like to spend the evening with us?"

Eva's hands join Bahorel's a moment later, teasing up Jehan's arm. "It should be a rather... fascinating experience."

"It always is, with the two of you." Jehan smiles, turning in their grasp, holding tight to them as they pull him deeper into their rooms.

There is a part of him that is afraid, just a little bit, of what the night will bring. He wouldn't be human if he wasn't, and he revels in the feeling, the chills and the trembling of his insides.

More than that, though, he is excited. He yearns to see what lurks at the very edge of the world, to bury his fingers in thick fur, to see what kinds of secrets he might find under the light of the moon.

As with the rest of his life, he goes into the evening with eyes wide open, glad for whatever experiences are to come.


End file.
